


Forever Broke

by r_lee



Category: Cowboy Bebop
Genre: Gen, Post-Canon, Series Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-03
Updated: 2013-12-03
Packaged: 2018-01-03 07:44:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1067854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/r_lee/pseuds/r_lee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, it's just another day on the Bebop with no money, no prospects, and nothing to say.</p>
<p>Some days, that's enough. But some days it isn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forever Broke

**Author's Note:**

  * For [handlegg](https://archiveofourown.org/users/handlegg/gifts).



**(Faye)**  
"It's not like _he's_ going to need them. Might as well get some use out of these things." It's pure practicality, nothing else. A more delicate person might be a little more careful lugging around four cartons of cigarettes, but as I've said time and again, I'm not the delicate type. 

People think I don't know the pain of loss, but they're wrong. They always underestimate me. My Rule One has always been _get them before they get you_ and just because Spike went and got himself killed like the fool he is—was—doesn't mean that I have to change who and what _I_ am. All I have to remember to do is start thinking about him in the past tense. That shouldn't be so hard, should it?

**(Jet)**  
"Can it. That's enough." She needs to get out of here. When I point to the corridor, I know the set to my jaw is as determined as the one on Faye's pointed little face. We're both carrying on, because that's what people do. It's the only thing to do, the only thing we _can_ do. The reports from Mars are worse than either of us could have imagined. Worse, because in the past no matter how stupid or bone-headed Spike was, he always managed to scrape out of things. Sometimes he scraped out of them barely alive, but this time… this time, the odds were stacked too high against him. When he left the Bebop for the last time, there was a finality to him that went beyond the ammo he packed. It was there in the story about the tiger-striped cat and in the determination on his face and in the fact that he left without his cigarettes. That said it all. That Spike never smoked when he went to take on the Syndicate was something I only realized in passing after the fact. 

As Faye squeezes by, I lift one of the cartons out of her arms. She's right. We might as well get some use out of those, and out of the rest of the things in Spike's workshop, in his room, hidden away in the bowels of the ship and we will. We just won't do it right now because right now is too soon. The door to the workshop closes and I lock it pointedly, daring Faye to say something.

"Men," she huffs as she moves down the corridor. "You're all such babies."

She walks off to who knows what corner of the ship. Secretly, I agree. Men might live by iron codes of honor, but we have our softer moments. The difference between men and women, I figure, is that we men don't ever let those moments show. Especially when those moments leave gaping holes in our legs. Or in our hearts.

**(Faye)**  
Odd or even. Whiskey or beer. Fight or flight. Young or old. Kill or be killed. Things are so much simpler than people make them out to be. Survival of the fittest is the name of the game, and if people are too dumb to survive, then they deserve to be dead.

If only he hadn't asked me to look at his eyes. If only he hadn't said those things about seeing the past and the present. If only he hadn't claimed to be going not to die, but to find out if he was really alive. What a lunkhead. What an idiot. 

What a waste. Not the same kind of waste he used to accuse me of when I deposited my earnings at the track, nothing like that. That was just a way to have a little fun. The thrill of the gamble, the hope of a big payoff. Maybe Spike felt the same way going to Tharsis City. Maybe he expected to win, like I do every time I place a bet. Maybe he expected to beat the past he said was always catching up to him, but he didn't, not this time. If he couldn't do it, how can I?

No, I don't measure myself against the successes or failures of others. That type of move's too weak, and I'm not a weak person. I've survived. In that circle of life and death, I've cheated death more times than I can count, and everybody knows how good I am at counting. 

Spike cheated it too until yesterday, with his don't-care attitude and his talk about all of it being a dream. Where are you going. _Why_ are you going. I could have cried right there, right in front of him, but I never would have let _that_ happen. Instead, I shot holes into the ceiling in frustration. _Idiot,_ I tell myself looking back on the whole thing, _you tipped your hand and you know better. You know so much better._

I wish I'd never met Julia. It was easier when she was just a name. I wish things were different, but they're not. Spike is gone and he's not coming back. Ed is gone and she's… well, who knows what Ed will or won't do. I stopped trying to figure the kid out a long time ago. Moving onto the Bebop when I did was the only sensible thing. It worked even when it didn't, and when I left for Earth I had no intention of coming back to this rat-trap but here I am. The Bebop is like a beacon that keeps calling my name. It was home. It _is_ home, and now it's just me and Jet on this big empty ship. Honestly, I count my losses all the time, even if I never let on. It's those losses that bring me to the living room, fingers itchy for some sort of action. I take a seat at Spike's usual spot on the yellow couch and sit the way he always did, slouched back and careless, arms folded behind his head. Just like he used to do, I toe the button on the view screen until it lights up. At least I don't have to kick it to get it started.

For one long moment I imagine what it's like to be that lunkhead who's so good at not caring about what matters to anyone else. Then I remind myself he's never coming back and sit up in a hurry. 

From his spot at the console, Jet pretends not to watch. He always pretends not to watch me, even when he can't keep his eyes to himself. It annoys or amuses me, depending on my mood, but today I can't be bothered with either of those reactions. I just study him back.

"Spit it out, Faye." He's grumpy. At least that hasn't changed.

I wave a dismissive hand. "I was thinking Earth."

There's a long silence where the words hang between us like they're trying to fill empty space, but the ghost of a smile finally shows on Jet's face. He nods and punches in the coordinates. "Funny," he admits, "I was thinking the same thing."

Men. They're so predictable.

**(Ed)**  
Walk and walk and walk! Run, Ein, run! Walking is fun! Running is fun! Walking with Tomato is even more fun! Listen, Ein, Ed will tell you a story, mm-hmm! Quiet, no barking!

Edward always wanted to be a real member of something. Why did Ed choose Bebop? Because Ed liked the name, silly! Bebop, Bebop. Sometimes, Edward gets lonely. That's why you're here, right, Ein? Because you were lonely too, and you wanted to keep Edward company? Ein will never leave like everyone else. Wait, Ein, come back! Come back!

Ed will return to the story in a minute. First, she has to find Ein. Zoom, zoom! Edward is hungry. Ein must be hungry too. Ein, Ein, I have piyokos! Silly Ein, come back to Ed! Oh, good, there you are. A piyoko for Ein, a piyoko for Edward. Look, Ein, a house with no one inside. Maybe Edward's father was here. Maybe he is here! Edward and Ein can stay here, just like Edward used to do before Bebop-Bebop came along with Spike and Jet and Faye-Faye. Oh, no father-person. That's all right, Ed will keep looking. Do you think MPU is still up there somewhere? Let's find out. Satellite from days of old… oh, no, Ein, no MPU. Edward is sad now. Edward has no one to play with. What? You can play chess? Good dog, Ein! Make the first move. Ed will wait for you.

**(Jet)**  
I don't ever want to go back to Mars. I've had it with that place. With the Syndicate wars, with the lies, with the past that hangs like a black rain cloud over everyone. I'd rather not go back to Ganymede either. Some Black Dog I've turned out to be, turning tail and running. It's just... it's been a tough three years. Hell, it's been a tough seven years since I left the police force on Ganymede to run with the ISSP.

"I was doing fine before I met him." It's not that I mean to say it aloud. It's a story I've only told the bonsai trees in the privacy of my own workshop, unless I told it to everyone else that time we ate the wrong mushrooms but if I did, no one can blame me and better still, no one can remember that I did tell the story. I know Faye won't ask for details. In her own way she's just as indirect as Spike was, but that's fair. I saw her trying out Spike's favorite pose on that couch. Probably trying to get into that brain of his and figure out why he went and did something so stupid. We'll never know. The past doesn't provide any insight. It just tells the same old stories, over and over.

Faye studies her fingernails and yawns. That's the only signal I need to proceed. When she's interested, she always pretends to be bored.

"When I left the ISSP, I had a mechanical arm and enough money to buy an old fishing boat. I got it from a contact on Ganymede. He was going out of the fishing business and sold it to me because I'd kept him from being shot once back when I was a cop."

One thing about Faye is that she doesn't mince words. "He probably sold it to you because you were the only one dumb enough to buy a piece of junk like this." 

She might be right, but that's not the point of the story. Outside, the stars shine on. One time Spike told me Old Man Bull told him some nonsense about warriors becoming the stars in the heavens when they die, if they're lucky. That old codger was always full of himself, but maybe…

No. The only way to make it better is by talking about it, and since I can't talk about it with Faye directly, stories are going to have to do. I go on like she never called my number and never interrupted. "Because I'd kept him from being shot once back when I was a cop, did I mention that already? So I had this ship, and once I got her all checked out and up to snuff—I grew up on Ganymede, I knew ship repair—I took the test for the bounty hunting license and decided to explore the star system. Which reminds me, your license is due to expire."

Her shrug is barely perceptible. "I'll get to it when I have the time. It's not like there aren't other things to spend my hard-earned Woolongs on." She looks up, pointedly, and lights a cigarette. "Get on with the story, if you're going to tell it. If not, I have better things to do."

That's the Faye I know and like. The impatient one. "My first stop was TJ. I'd heard of this place that supposedly made the best carnitas around, and that sounded like as good an idea as any. I went to the north end of town, following my lead. Even though I'd seen a lot of bad things with the ISSP, I wasn't sure what I was in for once I got to TJ. I did get my carnita, though, and while I was there I even got the recipe for the salsa. As I was walking back to the Hammerhead, I saw this guy come sailing out of a bar and land on his back, right in the middle of the street. So I went inside to see what the trouble was all about."

"I suppose being a former cop you just couldn't resist." Faye's voice is laced with sarcasm, or maybe it's boredom. Or both, but whatever it is, she doesn't get up and walk away. Instead of watching her hands now, she's watching me.

"Some instincts never fade, Faye, you know that." Like the instinct she has to stick her nose into places it doesn't belong. "So I walked into the bar and sat down and ordered a drink, and asked the guy at the next stool what the fuss was all about. He barely looked up enough to shake his head and yawn and tap his glass for a refill. Once he got it he downed the whole thing at once. 'Don't know,' he said. 'Not my problem.' I said to him, 'Oh, so you're one of those.' I'd never been the type not to get involved. The bartender eyed us both sideways and turned on the TV—"

"—probably so he didn't have to listen to your pathetic little conversation—"

"Stop interrupting and just listen. He turned on the TV, and the TJ news was reporting on a crackdown on drug smuggling on the rock and showed a real tough-looking guy off some surveillance camera somewhere. I said to the guy next to me something about how it would probably take a couple people working together to catch a criminal like that. He laughed and said I sounded like a cop, that a guy like that wouldn't be any trouble at all, that he could take him single-handedly. That made me laugh, and I finished my drink and stood up to pay. 'So are you?' he asked. 'A cop?' I shook my head and told him I used to be, but I wasn't any more. I was a bounty hunter now. Of course, I didn't tell him I was pretty new at it, but I could tell once he found out I wasn't a cop it made him relax. He stood up and threw a couple Woolongs on the bar, and I did the same, and we both walked out together. He wanted to know how many bounties I'd nabbed and when I didn't answer right away he grinned and said 'yeah, me too.' Then his stomach growled loud enough so I could hear it. I told him about the place with the carnitas and we started walking toward it, but the guy who'd been thrown out of the bar was really wailing away on some poor so-and-so, beating him senseless. Being a former cop, I ran over to stop it and at first I was the only one, but punches were thrown and Spike got shoved and once that happened, he put a quick end to things. No, _we_ put a quick end to things. We worked together as a team, just like I'd said people should, back in the bar. Instead of going for carnitas I dragged the troublemaker to the local police station, and it turned out he had a bounty on his head. My first payoff, a whole 300,000 Woolongs."

Faye rolls her eyes. "Three hundred's chump change."

"It seemed like a fortune to me at the time. How much do you think a cop earns, Faye?" She pretends she doesn't hear me, which means she's never given it a moment's thought. Why am I not surprised? At least she knows how much bounty hunters don't earn, especially when they go it solo. "When I got back outside after collecting the reward, I saw Spike walking off down the road. I caught up and I told him I'd split the bounty with him. He said nah, he didn't do anything to deserve it, but I said come on, we make a pretty good team. There's money to be made, and criminals to catch. Who couldn't use a few extra Woolongs? Who wouldn't want to travel the star system? He shrugged and started walking away and I said, 'Okay, but if you stay in TJ you'll end up just like that guy we caught.' He said, 'How do you know I'm not already just like that guy we caught?' I didn't have a good answer, but I told him I had a gut feeling about it. 'A gut feeling, huh?' He looked like he was actually considering things. 'You trust your gut?' I told him after all my years with the ISSP that I did, and that I had a sweet setup with a ship and nothing but time and gut feel and now a 300,000-Woolong bankroll. He said that as long as we stayed away from Mars he'd give it a shot and see how it went, but no questions and no promises about anything. And the rest, as they say, is history, except he never did get any carnitas."

"That's how you became a team." Faye's voice is steady, not a question. "That's how you met."

"That's how we met." 

"That's it." She lets out a strangled cry. 

"What's wrong, Faye?"

She stands up, then sits down again, then stamps out her cigarette in the ashtray. "I don't know," she finally confesses. 

Yeah, I know what she means. I feel the same way. "I miss him too."

Faye stays stubbornly quiet about it. I'm not stupid. I know he's the reason she came back here. She wasn't asking for the bald-headed guy. She was looking for the guy with the fuzzy hair, and now he's gone. At the moment I might be her only comrade, but even with that in mind, I know I'm a second choice, if that. She's probably only here because she's opportunistic, but so was Spike and I never blamed _him_ for it. That means I can't blame Faye for it either.

Talking about Spike's too uncomfortable, and it will be for a long time. I know what it's like to lose people. That's something I've never even wished on my worst enemies.

"You hungry, Faye?"

She shakes her head and doesn't look up at me. Just bites her lower lip.

"You should eat something." I can't believe I have to tell that to her of all people. 

Grudgingly, she glances toward the kitchen. "Are you cooking? What are you cooking?"

That's better. "Let's see. I think we have everything we need for a delicious shiitake stir-fry." 

"Shiit—" Faye's mouth drops open, but then it turns into a smile and the smile turns into a laugh, and I'm not sure exactly what's so funny but laughter's contagious and before I know it we're both sitting there on the Bebop laughing our asses off, and it's wrong but it's also right. Spike would have laughed too.

There's a stitch in my side from laughing so hard. "You think we'll find her? Earth's an awfully big place."

Faye can barely keep it together. "Who, Ed?" She waves her hand like everything's a foregone conclusion. "You know her. It'll be a miracle if she doesn't find us first."

A man can always hope.


End file.
